


too much of nothing

by cathedralhearts



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Wolves, Arranged Marriage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-18 23:30:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2365970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathedralhearts/pseuds/cathedralhearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We’re both arranged, we can’t do this,” Tyler says against Brownie’s neck as he sucks and bites his way down the left side. He feels Brownie buck against him, his free hand slapping down against the granite counter as he hitches his leg up to hook around Tyler.</p>
            </blockquote>





	too much of nothing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rest/gifts).



> This is for rest; I hope you like my trope mashup! It's my _fourth_ attempt at this fill, and I’m still banging my head against the wall about how everything went sideways, but I stalked your ao3 and I figured you might not hate some omegaverse with your arranged marriage request? If you really dislike this, let me know and I'll write you something else D:
> 
> Huge thanks to aohatsu and rsadelle on this one. 
> 
> Warnings -- the usual consent issues associated with alpha/omega relationships (especially concerning heats) and arranged marriages. I played around with game timelines and made up several injures and call ups for Brownie. Sorry bro <3

\--

Tyler’s sitting in his living room, knee jiggling, resisting the urge to pace, to throw things, to _scream_. He’s in a Superman shirt, a snapback, shorts and bare feet, having come back from a run after a shitty gym session. He’s too keyed up to concentrate, and his trainer had kicked him out an hour early, sensing nothing good being done today. He understands though, being a beta himself. They all do.

Tyler’s wolf is currently howling inside his head, angry and confused. He feels like he’s going to explode out of his skin.

It’s a full moon and they’re in the dead of summer, the air sticky and oppressive outside -- a stark contrast to the recycled, conditioned air inside. Tyler’s waiting for Brownie to get home from his workout, the rest of the guys already at their places and similarly on edge. The moon hasn’t crested yet and Brownie’s only a few minutes away, but Tyler’s almost out of his mind with the need to shift and start running for the reservation. He doesn’t know why he’s waiting. He doesn’t know why he _always_ waits. He’s an alpha; he isn’t supposed to wait for anyone.

Tyler lunges for his phone and dials Brownie’s number.

“Segs?” Brownie says, sounding confused. They don’t usually speak on a full moon, because it cuts too close to the rules. He just needs to hear Brownie’s voice, know he’s on the brink of changing as well. Wolves aren’t supposed to see each other’s wolf forms unless they’re mated. Not even the forms of wolves who have been arranged but not mated can be known. It’s a sacred, untouchable thing, so intimately entwined in their society. He can spend all day with his buddies, but come the night of a full moon, they scatter like leaves.

Tyler has his own pack, five wolves he meets with at the edge of the reservation and runs with for the night. He knows their markings, their smells, how they hunt and play, and how their fur feels against his muzzle. He wishes he knew their human forms, so he can do the same thing when they have two legs and skin. He knows he can’t, but he wants to.

“We should meet, on the res,” Tyler whispers, feeling his body start to shake as the moon climbs higher and higher into the sky.

“Segs, you _know we can’t_ ,” Brownie hisses. Tyler can hear him dropping his bag and keys, kicking out of his shoes and undoing his belt.

“I know, I just… I wanna run with my boys.” Tyler sighs, grinding the heel of his hand into his eye socket. He’s got a headache, the wolf pressing so tightly against his skin that everything _aches_.

“It’ll be okay once you turn twenty, man. You’ll get married and you’ll be able to run with whoever your mate is. Have a good one,” Brownie says and hangs up.

Tyler stands and starts pulling off his clothes, feeling his canines elongating as the wolf can’t take the wait any longer, starts to grey out the edges of his vision and wrestle with his consciousness. His hackles are up at Brownie ending the conversation so suddenly, cutting him off like that. It’s confusing and disrespectful, and it pisses his wolf off, an omega doing that to _him_. But at the same time… it’s _Brownie_.

He always loses time when he’s a wolf, the otherbrain taking control and doing what it needs for one night a month. There are flashes that carry with him when he turns back, though.

 

When he wakes up in a pile on the living room floor early the next morning, the first thing he remembers is a different wolf.

He’s in the shower, scrubbing the dirt and leaves from his hair and body and the different wolf is still there in his head, irritating him with its enigmatic nature. Not for the first time does he curse the fact that they can’t know each other in human form. He definitely remembers that the other wolf was big, as big as Tyler’s wolf -- maybe a little bigger, even -- with ice blue eyes and light brown streaks through his fur. He was _beautiful_. He wasn’t an alpha, either, because he rolled onto his belly and showed his neck, deferring to Tyler’s authority. Tyler had closed his jaw around the muscle, feeling and smelling everything, intoxicated.

He feels so much more rested and relaxed than usual, the buildup to a full moon always painful and difficult. Being a wolf sucks so much sometimes.

That wolf stays in his head, though. That wolf and his blue eyes, staring up at Tyler when he rolled on his back to cede to Tyler, so vulnerable.

*

Jesse, Brendan, Livy and Brownie come over later that morning as Tyler’s cooking up a huge breakfast, wanting to keep his hands and brain occupied.

“Great run last night,” Brendan says, walking in first and stretching. Tyler can hear his bones crack and winces. Jesse slaps him on the back of the head, Livy starts bitching about Tyler doing the eggs too runny as they head into the den, and Brownie… Brownie just gives him a soft smile and stays beside him, watching him cook.

Tyler knows Brownie’s also arranged to someone, but the other three aren’t. It depends on your family, on whether it’s traditional for you or not.

He can smell the tang of the beach and the sweetness of syrup that is Brownie floating over the eggs and butter, and idly wonders what he smells like to Brownie. There’s no point in asking; Brownie wouldn’t answer him. Not about that.

“You okay?” Brownie asks.

Tyler shrugs; he’s been better, he’s been worse.

Brownie reaches out a hand. It falters but he places it in the middle of Tyler’s back, between his shoulderblades. Every pack needs an omega, something about balance. Brownie’s been that counterbalance for him ever since they were in juniors. He doesn’t want anyone else having this power over him. It’s been just Brownie for a long time, pathetically so. What’s the point, he asks himself over and over, when he’s promised to someone else? When Brownie’s promised to someone else, too?

“Brownie,” he says, suddenly unable to wait, the desire rising up and choking him. It’s partly why Tyler called last night, the _wanting_ got to be too much. Brownie just blinks, his lips red and quirked in a small smile, that one he only has for Tyler. Tyler’s moving before he realises it, pressing Brownie against the cupboard and kissing him, kissing him like he’s drowning.

“Segs,” Brownie moans between them, making as if he’s going to push Tyler away, but he kisses back and Tyler’s wolf howls in victory. It’s so dumb, so fucking dumb, but he loses himself in the taste and feel. Brownie fists his hands in the back of Tyler’s t-shirt, spreading his legs so Tyler can get a knee between them, give Brownie something to grind down on.

“We’re both arranged, we can’t do this,” Tyler says against Brownie’s neck as he sucks and bites his way down the left side. He feels Brownie buck against him, his free hand slapping down against the granite counter as he hitches his leg up to hook around Tyler.

“I know,” Brownie gasps but he pulls Tyler back in to kiss him, needy. Tyler doesn’t let go.

“What the fuck?”

They spring apart, Tyler drawing back and Brownie leaning harder against the counter when Livy appears in the kitchen doorway. He narrows his eyes at them.

“Uhm,” Brownie says, swiping at his mouth. He turns around to close his fly -- when the fuck did Tyler even open it? -- and Tyler rescues the eggs and pushes the toast back down to warm it. He serves up Livy’s breakfast and holds the plate out, daring him to say something.

Livy doesn’t, just takes the plate and the coffee Brownie pushes at him and heads into the den. Jesse and Brendan come in, loudly demanding food, and Brownie slips out once the coffee is poured. All Tyler can taste is him.

 

* * *

 

It takes him two days before he goes to Brownie’s house in Wasaga Beach, which is where he’s disappeared to after their scene in the kitchen.

Brownie’s dad is surprised to see him when he opens the door, Tyler standing there awkwardly in shorts and a tank. It’s warm, and he scopes Brownie’s room out before knocking; the blinds and windows are closed. He hopes he hasn’t damaged Brownie somehow by finally giving in to how he feels, as wrong as it is.

An unmated alpha being on an unmated omega’s territory isn’t against the rules exactly, but it’s a little left of center and Tyler knows he’s pushing Brownie’s parents’ tolerance by showing up unannounced like this. They’re betas, and Brownie’s brother is too, so Tyler doesn’t expect to get challenged or anything. He just… he wants to find out what the fuck happened, why Brownie kissed him back, and whether what they have is worth having their arrangements annulled to try something natural together.

Brownie’s dad lets Tyler in and goes out back, and Tyler waits until he’s out of sight before he knocks on Brownie’s door. He can hear Brownie swear as Tyler’s scent rolls through the gap under the door, Brownie’s omega smell enticing Tyler right back. It makes Tyler want to break the door down and bury his face in Brownie’s neck, lay his claim down and fuck him until he comes. His wolf is desperate for it, but he waits for Brownie to open it because breaking down his door would be ridiculously rude. He’d do the rest, though. If Brownie wanted it.

As it is, his eyes are hooded and his hair is mussed; Brownie was sleeping.

“Segs?” Brownie asks, confused.

He rubs his eye and yawns, but tilts his head to the right so Tyler has to cup it, stroking his fingers along his jugular. It seems like a natural progression of things to just lean in and kiss Brownie’s soft mouth. His stubble rasps deliciously against Tyler’s own. Brownie whimpers but lets him, _again_ , before he pulls Tyler into his room, shutting the door and locking it behind them.

Tyler pushes them to the bed and Brownie pulls him on top, lets Tyler grind down and moans into his mouth, long and pained-sounding. He digs his fingers into Tyler’s back, scraping his short nails down the tank until Tyler sits up and pulls it off, yanking at Brownie’s shirt so they’re chest to chest. It feels so fucking good.

“We can’t,” Brownie whimpers, his breath hitching as Tyler starts rubbing their cocks together, achingly hard and needy for it. He grabs Brownie’s ass and pulls him closer, can feel the wetness in the seat of his briefs. Brownie grinds his ass against Tyler’s dick and the pressure that’s building inside him threatens to crest over and explode.

“We _can’t_ , Ty, it’s not-- we’re not, it’s… oh, fuck,” Brownie keens, high and thready, as Tyler licks a hot stripe down the left side of his neck, sucking a bruise into the dip of his shoulder. He pushes down harder, and Tyler needs to get his shorts off. He manages it with one hand, returning to kiss Brownie stupid, the taste and smell of them together better than any feeling in the world. It feels like years of dancing around the tension between them finally coming to an end, the perfect rightness of their bodies together better than anything.

“Tell me to stop,” Tyler says, yanking down Brownie’s briefs and doing away with his own. The back of Brownie’s legs are slick, and Tyler’s dick has beads of pre-come dribbling down the shaft. He grabs himself and strokes a couple of times, anything to relieve the pressure.

Brownie’s not in heat. If Tyler were doing this while Brownie was in heat, it’d be… it’d be worse. No, they’re just, it’s just--

“Fuck me,” Brownie says, staring at Tyler with a slack mouth. He reaches for Tyler’s dick and runs his fingers along the shaft, collecting the come on his fingertip. Tyler watches as he brings them back to his mouth and sucks, his head flopping back on his pillow.

“Your dad is here, so be quiet,” Tyler whispers. It’s pointless, because he knows Brownie’s dad will hear everything, if he tries. Tyler and Brownie alone in Brownie’s room is enough to raise warning flags. Brownie just reaches for his iPod dock and turns on some music, the volume loud enough that his whimpers, as Tyler pushes inside, are hidden between the beats.

It doesn’t last long. Tyler’s too turned on and Brownie’s eyes are glazed over with pleasure before it even really starts, his chest heaving as soon as Tyler’s hand touches him. He comes barely a minute later, his back arching and his ass clenching around Tyler’s dick as he coats his hands and his stomach, the mess sliding between his abs as they heave. Tyler can’t help it but fuck into him one last time, coming hard as well.

He knots immediately, sealing them together and curses; at least if he hadn’t knotted Brownie, it would’ve given them more leeway if they get discovered. Brownie pushes himself down on it, trying to milk Tyler for more, and Tyler almost whites out. He’s slept with people before, omegas and betas, but nothing has ever felt like this. Nothing has ever felt as _settling_ as this. He’s so fucked.

“Jesus,” Brownie sighs as Tyler flops awkwardly on top when they can’t move anymore. His hips are canted forward, Brownie bending a little so his ass can stay seated on Tyler’s dick. If Brownie’s dad wants anything in the next twenty minutes they’re screwed. “Jesus.”

The gravity of what they just did hits them when Tyler’s knot deflates and he slides out, come dribbling over his softened dick onto Brownie’s bedspread. Brownie doesn’t say anything, just grabs Tyler’s hand and pulls him into his bathroom, shoving him toward the shower as he roots around in a cupboard for fresh towels. They shower together and Tyler gets dressed. Brownie goes to crack a window, but Tyler stops him.

“Your dad will smell it, on the breeze,” he says softly. Brownie’s face twists but he nods and strips his bed instead, shoving the evidence in his bathroom and shutting the door. They remake it with fresh sheets from the linen cabinet in the hallway, and Brownie curls up on his side in clean boxers, his feet tucked under Tyler’s thigh. He stares at Tyler, who sits on the end of the bed, his back to the wall.

“We fucked up,” Brownie says. His mouth is pursed and unhappy.

Tyler sighs. Alphas can do as much as they want outside an arranged marriage, but omegas are generally expected to be virgins when they marry. It’s dumb and archaic, but Tyler’s heard of arrangements being annulled because the omega wasn’t a virgin and the claim bite didn’t take. You don’t need one for the other, but alphas can be assholes. _Are_ mostly assholes.

“Maybe your alpha won’t care, or will be too dumb to notice.” Tyler knows it’s ridiculous as soon as it leaves his mouth, and the kick Brownie aims at him goes unreplied to.

“My parents need to tell me who my alpha is, so I can go see them and explain.”

The parents are the ones who decide when and how to tell their children who their arrangements are with, and he seriously doubts Brownie’s would do it. No, they’ll just keep it hushed up until Brownie’s future husband or wife comes of age, then have the claiming ceremony and hope to god the alpha doesn’t notice he’s been knotted before.

Besides, Tyler will never be allowed to see him again if anyone finds out they had sex. His family is old school, and they’ll be pissed beyond all reason. It sends a shudder through his spine at the thought of his mother bearing down on him, all fury and righteousness at defiling Brownie so thoroughly.

“Full moon before the season starts again,” Tyler says instead, shaking off the visual and the desire to do it all over again. Brownie looks at him, his blue eyes sharp in the gloom. It’s dusk, and Tyler wants to curl up behind Brownie, let his dick nestle between Brownie’s thighs and fall asleep warm and content. It’s not his right, though.

“Yeah. Last one together for a while,” Brownie mumbles. Tyler frowns.

“Together? We’re not together when we run,” Tyler says. Brownie turns bright pink and nods.

“You know what I mean, like… the boys together, not running together,” Brownie says.

Tyler still frowns, and looks down at his lap. He really hopes this hasn’t broken them.

*

Brownie’s parents invite him to stay for dinner and nobody seems any the wiser. Tyler’s actively working against scenting Brownie, has since he arrived, but keeps catching Brownie’s smell and it’s distracting as hell. It’s warm and _satisfied_ , and Tyler swears it’s changed a little, something extra slipped between the syrupy ocean breeze. Brownie shifts a lot during his meal, wincing whenever it catches a little, and Tyler spends most of it staring at his plate, the pink flush high on his cheeks and back of his neck like a fucking beacon.

They play Xbox after dinner with Cody, before Tyler decides to head back to Toronto. He could stay, probably should stay so he can talk to Brownie more about everything, but he’s tired and Brownie’s not talking much anymore, buried in his own thoughts and misery.

“I’ll see you soon,” Tyler says, hugging him as they stand by his car. He breathes him in and clutches a little tighter. Brownie sighs and looks back at the house.

“Wait up, I’ll come with you. I was gonna stay here until tomorrow but I don’t think I can sleep in that bed tonight. I don’t wanna risk any questions about why you’re here,” Brownie whispers. Tyler flushes again and nods, waiting until Brownie comes out twenty minutes later with his gear. The drive in silence, Tyler dropping Brownie off at Jesse’s place just before midnight, Brownie asleep against the window. He’d tried to convince Brownie to come stay with him, but apparently the temptation was too much.

“Brownie, we’re here,” Tyler says, shaking him gently. Brownie sighs and turns into his arm, rubbing his cheek against Tyler’s hand. That wave of desire crashes up against him and he leans in, kissing Brownie until he starts to respond and wakes up. His eyelashes flutter against Tyler’s cheek.

“We shouldn’t,” is all Brownie says, getting out and leaving Tyler sitting in the car. Tyler drops his head on the steering wheel and prays for strength.

 

Tyler sees that new wolf again when they meet at the res for the last time before Tyler leaves for Boston. Those blue eyes are so familiar it pisses Tyler off, but they run and it’s awesome and he forgets about all his problems.

He’s high on the moon, high on his pack and high on the hockey season being back -- and this new wolf fits seamlessly into him. Tyler’s sad to leave as the moon begins to sink back down and the sky pinkens, licking along the new wolf’s muzzle and listening to the whimpers as he leaves.

Whoever this wolf is, it’ll have to wait until next summer.

 

In the time between September and January they sleep together six more times.

The guilt and fear are suffocating, and Tyler comforts himself with the knowledge that each time is Brownie’s fault. _Mostly_.

The first time happens in the pre-season, when Brownie comes up to catch one of the Boston games with Livy and Brendan. Brownie should definitely be in Glens Falls, but he’s in Boston instead, wearing a SEGUIN 19 jersey. Tyler can’t help it, he scores a hat trick, feeling drunk and exhilarated off Brownie wearing _his_ jersey. It’s a statement, an omega wearing an alpha’s shirt so openly like that, arranged or not. It’s pretty pathetic, and his friends tell him so, but his wolf is howling for it. Tyler basically jumps on Brownie after the game, meeting them all by the dressing room. Brownie laughs stupidly, insisting Tyler buy them dinner amongst the commotion of the other guys and their families.

They have steaks and Livy gets white girl wasted, so Brendan takes him back to Tyler’s condo while Tyler and Brownie go ahead to the club with Marchy and a few of the other boys.

Tyler finds himself in the club bathroom with Brownie pressed against him, more sober than when he walked into the friggin’ club, and Brownie gets on his knees and starts sucking him off. It’d just be bad manners not to return the favour. That alone does him in, and he tugs on Brownie’s hair to pull back and shoots, striping Brownie’s face with come. His knot fills and Brownie sighs happily, running his tongue around it, smearing come and sweat across it and making Tyler shudder.

Brownie surges upright to let Tyler kiss him, before Tyler drops to his knees and pulls Brownie’s pants down. He pushes Brownie’s leg over his shoulder and starts jacking him off, burying his face between Brownie’s cheeks to lick at his ass, already slick with it -- all for Tyler. Brownie’s got one hand buried in Tyler’s hair and the other pressed to his face, biting into his forearm to keep quiet. Tyler gets four fingers in his ass and uses some of Brownie’s lube to slick up his dick more, sucking Brownie off as he tries to slip his thumb inside. Brownie squeezes down hard and comes, almost bending in half with the effort, whimpering and calling out Tyler’s name.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” Brownie says dazedly, grabbing at the toilet stall with one shaking hand as Tyler pulls himself to his feet.

“Probably not,” Tyler agrees. He feels just as out of it as Brownie looks, the air between them heavy with sex and each other. Tyler’s wolf is whining loudly, and he knows Brownie’s is doing the same, given how he winces at every intake of breath. Their scent together is intoxicating, and Tyler wants it to be like that forever.

Brownie disappears not long after splashing water on his face, and Tyler doesn’t bother following, heading home instead. He probably stinks of Brownie, and he doesn’t want the guys asking questions when neither of them know how to explain.

It doesn’t ignore the fact that Brownie smelled of Tyler as he left, obvious to every wolf in the entire place. Him coming across Brownie’s face was a sign of ownership that Tyler had no right to give. They’ve made it worse, worse than it was before.

*

The second, third and fourth times happen when Brownie’s on extended IR when he hurts his ankle. He goes to Philadelphia to meet with medical staff, and then flies straight to Boston for a week. Tyler’s on a decent home stretch and while Brownie can’t exactly come to the Garden, he watches the games and has dinner waiting when Tyler comes home.

He honestly hadn’t expected to see Brownie for the rest of the season, given what happened in the club, but apparently Brownie’s made his peace with whatever he had to. He texts Tyler as he lands, says he’s here for a while and to come get his gimpy ass from the airport. Tyler’s playing NHL 12 with Marchy and bails out, returning with Brownie right behind him.

Marchy scents the air and stiffens, eyebrows raising at Tyler. Tyler’s got no idea what he smells, but it’s enough to make Marchy throw down the controller with badly faked casualness, stretching and walking past Tyler, clapping him on the arm.

“I’m gonna head out, need a nap. Nice to see you, Brownie,” Marchy says and the door shuts neatly behind him. Brownie raises an eyebrow but Tyler shrugs and takes his duffle upstairs. He hesitates before dumping it in the spare room closest to Tyler’s. After last time, he doesn’t know if this is… if this will end in more illicit sex, which it really fucking shouldn’t, or if this will just be a bro vacation or something.

 

It makes Tyler’s chest ache with that soft, warm smile Brownie aims at him when he gets home after practise, and then through a bad loss and a scrappy win. Tyler doesn’t make a move though, lets Brownie dictate the pace. They eat together and play Xbox, and Tyler makes a show of yawning and announces that he’s heading to bed. Brownie shrugs and flicks through his Netflix queue, so Tyler just goes to bed.

Nothing happens, though, not until after the win.

Barely half an hour after Tyler goes to bed alone, Brownie appears at the doorway, his ankle strapped as he limps his way into Tyler’s room. He slides onto the bed and looks at Tyler, who had been swiping through ebooks on his iPad before Brownie’s appearance, actively hoping Brownie would come to him. His wolf is smug.

“I heard orgasms are good pain relievers,” Brownie starts tentatively, picking at the edge of Tyler’s bedspread.

Tyler groans and palms his face. “You have pain medication.”

Brownie’s brows knit together and he fists the sheet. “I want this,” he says.

“We shouldn’t,” Tyler says, sitting upright. “You saw the look on Marchy’s face. Alpha and omega alone together? Dude, we’ve already broken so many rules. Don’t make this any worse on yourself, we shouldn’t--”

Brownie cuts him off by darting forward to kiss him, clenching at Tyler’s shoulders and balancing badly on his knees. Tyler pulls Brownie down to blanket him, before Brownie hisses when he tries to move and presses on his ankle.

“You non,” Tyler says and pushes Brownie onto his back. His fingers bunch at Brownie’s hips as he kisses him again, hovering over him, mindful of his injury. He tugs at Brownie’s pants, pulling away to ease them gently over his feet, throwing them on the floor nearby.

“You’re the best pain relief, baby,” Brownie leers with a laugh. Tyler rolls his eyes but sinks down on him, mouth stretched wide around Brownie’s cock, thick and heavy against his tongue. Tyler has to close his eyes as the words reverberate around him, his wolf clawing to get closer to them, the feel of Brownie’s skin against his entrenching itself. He tastes amazing and Tyler moans, Brownie’s fingers coming to tangle in his hair and Tyler sucks him off quick and brutal, before straddling Brownie’s chest and coming on him, striping up his jaw and face.

Tyler’s wolf takes over for a second, bearing down to rub his face along the marks, pressing the scent against Brownie’s skin. Brownie brings his hands up, like he’s going to push Tyler off, but Tyler nips at his neck and Brownie stills, his hands falling flat to the bed. Tyler cleans the mess off him, nosing his way along Brownie’s skin until he feels he can pull away without whimpering. Brownie’s eyes are huge and blown, and Tyler kisses him because it’s easier than not to.

The following nights are more of the same -- Brownie coming into his room once the sun has set and Boston is bustling below them, letting Tyler do what he wants. Brownie’s legs make a home tucked around his back, his fingers and mouth leaving marks wherever they can. An omega leaving marks on an alpha, when both of them are arranged; it makes Tyler nervous that Brownie is pretending like the arrangements don’t matter, or aren’t there.

The last night, after Brownie comes with a shout and sinks down on Tyler’s knot, almost howling, Tyler can’t help but ask.

“If we keep doing this… it’s gonna increase the chance your alpha will know,” he says. Brownie’s trapped, can’t run from this, and he scowls down at Tyler.

“I don’t get looser every time we fuck, Segs. It doesn’t work like that.”

“I know it doesn’t, but aren’t you scared? Your scent is gonna change if we keep doing this. You’re gonna start smelling like me.”

Something flashes across Brownie’s face, too quick for Tyler to register, but he’s pretty sure he knows-- knows the thought was akin to _so fucking what?_ That thought alone, the fact either of them are having them, is enough for him to kick Brownie out after his knot goes down.

“We should sleep apart tonight,” he says.

Brownie stands up and leaves, shutting the door behind him. When Tyler wakes up the next morning, the coffee machine is on but the apartment is empty, all of Brownie’s stuff gone.

_Thanks for letting me crash - TB._

*

They don’t speak again until early January, until the fifth time.

The fifth time is in Philly. Tyler’s there for a game and Brownie’s been called up. He’s on the fourth line and scores a goal on his second shift. Tyler has to remind himself that cheering for Brownie would get him stabbed, both by his team and by the greater Boston public when he gets back there, so he tamps down on the urge and tries to score an answering goal. It doesn’t happen and Philly wins. Tyler’s pissed because he hates losing, even though he’s overjoyed that Brownie got a fucking _goal_.

Brownie grabs him as they’re leaving the rink, and Tyler’s tired and sore -- and really fucking upset that it’s been so long since they talked.

“Segs,” Brownie starts.

Tyler grabs his wrist and Bergy appears behind him, eyes focused on his phone until he bumps into Tyler’s back.

“Everything okay?” Bergy says, voice deceptively calm. Bergy’s an omega, but he’s mated to his wife and brooks no shit from anyone, and he knows Brownie’s one too. Tyler’s told the team all about his friends.

“Fine,” Tyler grits out, tightening his fingers on Brownie’s wrist. Brownie winces but he licks his lips, his eyes dropping to Tyler’s mouth, and that’s about all Tyler can fucking take. He drags Brownie back into the rink and into a training room, slamming the door behind him and shoving Brownie against it. Both of them are exhausted, but Tyler kisses him deep and hard as he worms his hands into Brownie’s suit pants, his cock hard and leaking already.

He gets three fingers in Brownie’s ass before he comes, choking on it, and Tyler rubs off against him while Brownie sucks kisses into his neck, all along the left side. Tyler just shoves himself back in his pants when he’s done, staggering back from Brownie. Brownie reaches out for him, but Tyler slaps his hands away.

“Fuck. No, we can’t. God, people are starting to notice. Bergy was giving me judgemental eyes. It’s gonna get out if we keep this up.” He feels weak and shaky, unbalanced. Brownie smells so good and his wolf is whining and begging to be let back near him. Brownie looks just as fucked out, just as fucked up.

“Segs, maybe we...” Brownie starts.

Tyler snarls, teeth bared. “Don’t say it, because we both know you don’t mean it,” he spits and storms out.

Brownie would never do something like getting an annulment to be with someone like him. Tyler would do it in a heartbeat. He doesn’t know what scares him more.

*

The sixth time -- well, depending on specifics, but Tyler counts it as only ‘one’ time, even though it was closer to ten or twelve -- comes two nights before Tyler’s birthday.

Brownie’s in Boston for it, texts when he arrives and says he pulled a quad or something. Tyler refuses to get him but tells him he’s welcome, and paces nervously until he hears Brownie walking down the hallway. Something smells weird, the snatch of scent he gets bizarre and heavy, and the front door’s unlocked so Brownie opens it and comes inside.

The second he steps across Tyler’s threshold, Tyler knows it’s a lie.

Pulled quad his ass. Brownie’s in _heat_.

“You bastard,” Tyler snaps, stepping backward as Brownie pulls his shirt off.

Tyler feels like he’s drowning in the smell and his wolf is going insane at the deep, earthy musk coming from Brownie. It feels like being stuck in summer, the oppressive humidity and heat working together to create a malaise he can barely push through.

“Happy birthday,” is all Brownie says. He shucks off his pants and stands in front of Tyler, shivering.

Tyler knows of guys who have hook ups with omegas to help them through their heats, but he’s also heard of omegas who say it’s better to just deal with it themselves. Guys on the team have told him fucking an omega in heat is like nothing else, addictive and just as dangerous for an alpha as it is for an omega. You can spontaneously mate, if your chemistry is aligned enough, and fuck if you mate to someone who isn’t your arranged partner.

“Brownie, you… you’re in heat, we can’t,” Tyler huffs, even though he’s pulling off his shirt and pushing down his sweatpants, freeballing because he was home alone and expecting to eat pizza while watching old episodes of Suits. Brownie always fucks up his plans. He’s supposed to be the boring one, the dependable one. He was the boring and dependable one. God, Tyler’s broken him. He’s broken _them_. He can’t find it in himself to feel bad though, the relief at Brownie being back near him, within touching distance, better than any high.

“My heats don’t last long,” is all Brownie says, as he reaches for Tyler’s hand. Tyler takes it, lacing their fingers together. He hesitates, because it’s more than that. It should be more than that.

“We can’t go back,” Tyler whispers, squeezing down. Brownie shrugs but waits, because he’s a good omega under it all. Tyler needs to be the one to make this call.

Tyler kisses him.

 

It takes two days for Brownie’s heat to break.

Tyler’s lucky; usual policy dictates that alphas and omegas are given time off around their twentieth birthdays for their mating and arranged marriages if their families so desire, so nobody notices he’s missing.

His dick is aching by the afternoon, and he feels drugged out and exhausted from all the orgasms and Brownie’s scent, in _their_ scent mixing together and drowning everything around them. He tries to open a window on a food break, but it’s fucking January in Boston, so it doesn’t stay open for long. He’s not gonna be able to skate, and he has no idea how he’s supposed to stand at an altar and marry some complete stranger after this.

Brownie calls for him, breaking him from his reverie, and he finishes slapping together the sandwiches and heads back to the bedroom.

Brownie’s heat breaks just before midnight is due to usher in Tyler’s birthday and he rides Tyler to one last orgasm, his hips shifting weakly as they come, almost dry at this point. He flops to the side, utterly exhausted and moaning painfully.

Tyler’s phone rings the second the clock flips over. It’s his mother.

“It’s my mom,” Tyler says, Brownie’s hand splayed across his chest. He shuffles as best he can to get closer, picking his phone up as Brownie curls around him. He’s never been in this much pain yet this happy in his entire life. They need to talk about it, but he figures Brownie showing up on his doorstep to get fucked through his heat is as much of a declaration to annul as there’s ever been.

“M’phone’s going off too,” Brownie slurs against Tyler’s neck, the buzzing sound from the living room audible to both of them, but he makes no movement to get it.

“Baby, it’s time. I can tell you who you’re arranged to,” his mom says down the line once he picks up. Brownie lifts his head and looks at Tyler, moving his hand to circle Tyler’s dick. He’s still hard, and Tyler bites down on his lip and tries not to whimper. If his mom hears anything from Brownie, he’s screwed. He tries to communicate that with a glare, and Brownie’s fingers rub the base of Tyler’s cock, squeezing gently.

“Who is it?” Tyler asks, trying to focus on something, _anything_ but Brownie.

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you years ago, but we wanted you two to develop organically, fall in love naturally. Your dad and I didn’t get the chance. We always wanted something different for you and the girls.”

Brownie’s phone stops buzzing for a second and starts up again, but Brownie doesn’t move, just keeps stroking Tyler gently, twisting his wrist just right and bringing the foreskin up and over, just like Tyler likes. He’s trained Brownie well.

“I know them?” Tyler asks, breathless.

His mom laughs. “Yeah, baby, you know him. It’s Brownie. Tyler Brown is your arranged mate,” she says, her voice warm and happy.

Brownie’s hand stills on his dick, and Tyler doesn’t… he doesn’t know what to say.

“How did… _what?_ ”

“We knew the Browns before you were born. Your father went to college for a few years with Tyler’s dad. When Tyler was born, he presented as an omega. Their family would come over while I was pregnant, and Tyler was in love with my belly. He’d spend ages rubbing you, singing to you, telling you stories. It was so cute. We had to hide all the photos once you got older, because it’s supposed to be a secret. When you were born and we did the tests, and you presented as an alpha, it was an easy choice to make.”

Brownie’s phone has started buzzing again, and this time he gets out of bed and heads into the living room. He slams into the door but Tyler’s mom doesn’t say anything, just waits for Tyler to respond. His brain is spinning, fighting through the orgasmic haze, trying to figure out what the hell she just told him. Brownie’s his arrangement?

“I, wow. Okay. Uhm, thanks.”

She tells him the ceremony will happen tomorrow, and to make sure he’s got a tuxedo. Of course, he’s just got one of those fucking hanging around. His parents and sisters are flying in with his grandparents in the morning, and all of Brownie’s family will come as well. He’s going to need to find somewhere for all of these people to sleep.

By the time the calls ends, Brownie’s back in his room and sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I can’t believe we’re actually… we’re meant for each other,” Brownie whispers. Tyler doesn’t know what to say, just rubs a hand along the vertebrae in Brownie’s back and lets him think.

“We found each other without even knowing it. How ‘meant to be’ is that shit?” Tyler jokes. Brownie chokes out a laugh and falls back on the bed, shuffling under the covers and curling back against Tyler’s side.

“Theres something I have to tell you, while we’re on the topic of breaking rules,” Brownie says. Tyler raises an eyebrow and waits, his palm flattened against Brownie’s ribs. He’d wait forever, he finds, if Brownie wanted him to.

“I… I followed you, back in the summer. To the res. I’m… that new wolf, it’s me.”

Tyler stares up at the ceiling, letting it sink in. Of course it’s Brownie, it makes perfect sense now that it’s pointed out to him. The colouring, the eyes, the rightness of his smell and feel against Tyler.

“Say something,” Brownie says, sitting up. Tyler rolls his eyes.

“We’ve gone about this completely backwards, dude,” he says. Brownie nods.

“I think my dad knows we banged that time,” Brownie says slowly, kicking a foot out. He’s exhausted and Tyler pulls him back down to lie against him.

“I’m not surprised he actually let me into your room and went out back, now we know this,” Tyler adds on. Brownie rubs his face and looks at Tyler.

“I’m not taking your last name,” he says. “And my mom is going to cry… a lot.”

“So’s mine. We have to rent tuxedos and find beds,” Tyler groans.

“Hotels, bro.” Brownie yawns, a wide, jaw-cracking one, making Tyler follow suit. He reaches for Brownie’s hand and laces their fingers together, bringing Brownie’s hand to his mouth and kissing it.

“Husband,” he says.

Brownie chuckles and elbows him, but rolls in closer and kisses him. “Husband,” he says back.

Tyler could get used to hearing that.


End file.
